Tammy was born to a single mother. To say Tammy had a rough childhood was an understatement. Tammy was a hyper child growing up, having no real discipline due to her mother either being too tired working several job s or getting high to relieve the stress. Due to Tammy’s hyper activity, her mother being too cheap to get professional help for her daughter, she would often drug Tammy to keep her quiet. The results of the repeated drugging hurt Tammy’s mental development. She would suffer extreme paranoia, extreme mood swings, extreme disillusions, and a general hardship of separating fantasy from reality
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Another one of her mother’s bad habits was bringing home random strangers to have sex with. Tammy would often walk in on her mother’s bedroom activities and due to her screwed up state of mind, thought such activity was normal.

When Tammy became a teenager, she started using whatever drugs her mother had left lying around. She would get high for it seemed to be the only to stop the insanity. As Tammy went through high school, she earned the reputation of a party chick, and dealer. She picked up her mother’s bad habit of bringing home classmates either looking for a fix or a fuck. By the time Tammy was 16 she seemed so numb to other people that she could only make a connection with others was through sex. Tammy ended up dropping out of school her senior year, and tried to support herself by either dealing or whoring herself out.

Due to her very unstable mental condition she was arrested for possession quiet easily at the age of 19. After determining her mental condition, instead of being thrown in jail, she was sent to Massacre State Asylum.

This is my second try. I hope this a better character. It's a junkie character with a bit pyschosis.

By the way Britwitch, would you have a problem with being our cute little girl type? The crazy violent one who hugs a teddy bear and would never be suspected type? I'd like to get a veritable rainbow going here.

Sorry, been away for the weekend and only just catching up...not a problem with me at all

Bio: Shannon is the picture of middle class perfection. She grew up quite perfectly with all the expectations to act normal, fit in, be a sheep like every other manicured, garden-gnomed, middle-class static daughter of the mildly privileged.

At 6 she was placed in dance classes and excelled. Her only bother was when she would trip and the other girls laughed, as little girls often do. She knew to laugh it off and smile. She did that well knowing that the next time she was in class she would have her own laugh at their expense. Whether because of the jar of fire ants poured around carpeted rehearsal room or the glass vase of flowers for her teacher that she would drop in the tiled hall outside the changing room.

At 9 she accidentally spilled nail polish remover on a tiny corner of her princess blanket and it melted, smoking. Absolutely delighted she snipped off that corner and used her mandatory perfect sewing skills she covered up the imperfection. Three days later she was bored at her friends house and noticed the girl had the same blanket. They played beauty shop at her request. That night, for many nights actually, she replayed the girls screams in her mind. That look of fright, her shocked sobbing shrieks as the blanket melted on to her legs, burning her horribly. All the while Shannon was standing there, silent, in absolute awe until she was ushered away and coddled for having seen such a frightening sight.

From 12 to 15 she was a candy stripper at her local hospital. Perfectly cute in her pink and whit stripes, her pony tail and matching ribbon, sweet smile and giggling politeness. Through and through just the way she ‘should’ be but under it all she was fascinated with the place. She loved watching the tension and emotion on peoples faces, how they ticked at these extreme times. More than once she had been shooed away from open doorways while families watched loved ones pricked and poked or violently brought back to life. When this would bore her she would visit the patients with no families offering kind support. She would chat sweetly and fluff pillows, help clean up bedside tables, spilling juice accidentally on laps or over reading materials and family photos, sometimes standing on oxygen lines just to watch their numbers fall. Her favorite was bumping the IV machines, turning off the flow of pain medications in her apologetic haste to right the toppling machine and watching their slow transformation from small moans to often times screaming agony. She couldn't do that often because it was difficult to mask her smile when the nurses come in to find her perfectly pitifully poking the machine, cursing it and yelling softly for someone to help her help this poor person. Never once getting caught she stayed for three years as the seemingly bouncy, happy girl that always had a lollipop, cookie or hug for everyone she met.

Her life went on perfectly perfect in all ways. She married her high school sweetheart, the star quarterback turned car-sales man. She has the mandatory two children, one boy, one girl as well as the white picket fence, the golden retriever, the cat you put out of doors at night. You know, all the trappings of a perfectly boring life as a sheep. Which is why she chose to work at the asylum. She needed something to break up the monotony and abnormal people would, could hopefully do just that. So many helpless people to help. So many opportunities to keep from getting to awfully bored.

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pardon me, my sense making abilities are inebriated at the moment.

"The very existence of flamethrowers proves that sometime, somewhere, someone said to themselves, “You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but I’m just not close enough to get the job done.” ~Carlin

"The very existence of flamethrowers proves that sometime, somewhere, someone said to themselves, “You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but I’m just not close enough to get the job done.” ~Carlin

Tammy was born to a single mother. To say Tammy had a rough childhood was an understatement. Tammy was a hyper child growing up, having no real discipline due to her mother either being too tired working several job s or getting high to relieve the stress. Due to Tammy’s hyper activity, her mother being too cheap to get professional help for her daughter, she would often drug Tammy to keep her quiet. The results of the repeated drugging hurt Tammy’s mental development. She would suffer extreme paranoia, extreme mood swings, extreme disillusions, and a general hardship of separating fantasy from reality
.
Another one of her mother’s bad habits was bringing home random strangers to have sex with. Tammy would often walk in on her mother’s bedroom activities and due to her screwed up state of mind, thought such activity was normal.

When Tammy became a teenager, she started using whatever drugs her mother had left lying around. She would get high for it seemed to be the only to stop the insanity. As Tammy went through high school, she earned the reputation of a party chick, and dealer. She picked up her mother’s bad habit of bringing home classmates either looking for a fix or a fuck. By the time Tammy was 16 she seemed so numb to other people that she could only make a connection with others was through sex. Tammy ended up dropping out of school her senior year, and tried to support herself by either dealing or whoring herself out.

Due to her very unstable mental condition she was arrested for possession quiet easily at the age of 19. After determining her mental condition, instead of being thrown in jail, she was sent to Massacre State Asylum.

This is my second try. I hope this a better character. It's a junkie character with a bit pyschosis.

Hey Slave, this is a great bio thank you! I just need a photo of Tammy and a last name for her and we're good to go!

And Nina, you are a goddess! Fuck me cause I want her to mess with Eva's head a lot! Please!!

...

Oh.. she can't wait to do just that.... minds, bodies... where ever her boredom takes her..

__________________

pardon me, my sense making abilities are inebriated at the moment.

"The very existence of flamethrowers proves that sometime, somewhere, someone said to themselves, “You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but I’m just not close enough to get the job done.” ~Carlin

"The very existence of flamethrowers proves that sometime, somewhere, someone said to themselves, “You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but I’m just not close enough to get the job done.” ~Carlin

"The very existence of flamethrowers proves that sometime, somewhere, someone said to themselves, “You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but I’m just not close enough to get the job done.” ~Carlin

"The very existence of flamethrowers proves that sometime, somewhere, someone said to themselves, “You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but I’m just not close enough to get the job done.” ~Carlin